


Five Times Alec Hardy Was Inconvenienced by His Pacemaker (And One Time He Wasn’t)

by GnomeIgnominious



Category: Broadchurch
Genre: 5 Times, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, dorset, pacemaker fic, soft detectives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-31 10:13:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20113432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GnomeIgnominious/pseuds/GnomeIgnominious
Summary: Ellie notices a lot about Alec in the year following his pacemaker surgery. He goes through a very subtle personality change, as though the Dorset weather is finally eroding him into something a little more happy.It's not without its teething problems, though.





	Five Times Alec Hardy Was Inconvenienced by His Pacemaker (And One Time He Wasn’t)

**Author's Note:**

> This fic grew out of my discovery that pacemakers are affected by magnetic fields. The image of Hardy being foiled by an induction hob tickled me, then this afternoon 500 Miles by The Proclaimers came up on shuffle and all I could hear was Ellie and Alec singing along. The rest is history.

**I**

The first thing Ellie notices after Hardy’s back at work post-op is how long he takes answering the phone when she calls. She doesn’t get it until she sees him answering the phone in person a few days later, patting at every single pocket on his coat until he finally finds the phone in his trouser pocket, digs it out and answers it on the last ring.

She googles random things, like “pacemaker forgetfulness” and “heart surgery selective amnesia” but doesn’t find anything useful.

She watches one day at work as Hardy jams the phone to his ear with his shoulder, freeing up his right hand to take notes. That’s when she wonders if he’s been replaced by some kind of alien doppelganger. No police officer answers the phone with their dominant hand -- it gets drilled into you automatically as a DC, simply due to the amount of time you spend on the phone and writing at the same time.

She googles “pacemaker mobile phone” and understands.

**II**

Hardy’s allowed to drive again six months after getting his pacemaker. Or, as she finds out because she helps him do the forms for DVLA, his Implantable Cardioverter Defibrillator. His not-a-condition is a genetic predisposition to ventricular tachycardia that means his heart needs to be paced sometimes and possibly shocked if the pacing doesn’t keep the rhythm under control. It’s quite a mouthful and Ellie kind of gets why he’s so reluctant to talk about it. Now she considers it, it really is a bit gruesome to be forced to chat about one’s mortality over a cup of tea.

Or a bag of grapes.

She watches him as six months pass and she wonders if he’s got a calendar somewhere, and big red pen to cross the days off. 

The big day finally rolls around and to Ellie’s disappointment, he’s exactly the same as ever. Until 5:30pm, when he flicks off the lights in his office and hovers awkwardly near her desk.

“I’m heading home.”

She smiles brightly. “Have a nice evening.”

“Just wondering-- can I-- d’you need a lift home or anything? If not tonight, just let me know, whenever--” He seems to realise he’s babbling a bit and shuts up. 

Then, a moment later, he announces, “I’ve got my licence back.” 

And she can see how proud he is under his slightly embarrassed exterior.

She doesn’t foresee that she’ll have to take him up on his offer of a lift so soon, but the very next morning her car won’t start and she’s sure it’s the battery because this happened before, but her neighbour’s already gone to work and so she calls him.

She’s got the jump leads out of the boot and the bonnet up by the time he arrives. He’s driving a rather worn-out looking hatchback and she hopes it’s got the oomph to get her much larger car going again.

She never does find out, though.

Turns out the current that runs through a pair of jump leads creates a strong enough magnetic field that a pacemaker can be fried if the person it’s implanted in gets closer than a couple of feet.

So Alec stands stiffly on the sidelines while Ellie tries and fails to jump start her car, and then it starts to rain and they’re both late so she gives up and lets him drive her in to the office. She deliberately refrains from commenting on his driving (hesitant; he stalls twice at a traffic light) and they both suffer the speculative -- and in some cases, downright nosy -- glances of their colleagues for the rest of the day.

**III**

They’re on a beach. Ellie’s lived in Dorset her whole life and she still isn’t tired of the sea. The SOCO tent at one end does take the shine off it a bit, though.

There were reports of a violent assault in the vicinity last night and now they think they’ve got the crime scene. SOCO are starting to go over the place with a fine-tooth comb.

Hardy arrives about ten minutes later. He takes one look at the beach, the tent and Brian and turns on his heel. Ellie knows that he’s trying to look dignified, but marching on sand is rather difficult.

She joins him behind the police tape they’ve set up a safe distance away from the scene and they watch as SOCO sweep their metal detectors over every inch of sand, from the foot of the cliffs to the ever-beating waves.

**IV**

Eventually, Ellie invites him round for dinner again. Only this time Hardy offers to cook and suddenly it feels momentous, this one small, insignificant meal. Like something’s changed between them.

And it has, she reflects. They still snipe at each other, rub each other up the wrong way constantly -- but it’s softened. It’s familiar. Part of their routine now. It’s almost _ nice. _

So she accepts his offer, and in return, offers him her much larger kitchen to cook in, her much nicer dining room to eat in and her much cosier front room to sit in afterwards. He turns up early, Tesco bag for life full of ingredients clutched in one hand (and that in itself is noticeable; he’s planning for the future now) and a bottle of wine in the other. Not bottom shelf stuff either. It’s even got a proper cork.

She shows him into the kitchen even though he can surely remember the way and his eyes take in the cooker. Widen. He stops dead in the middle of the room.

“I can’t…” He gestures at the cooker. “Miller -- I can’t use that thing.”

Her blood is instantly up at what she takes to be a barely-veiled insult. 

“What? That’s a brand new cooker! We only just had it put in before--”

“It’s the magnets. They’ll-- they’ll interfere wi’ my pacemaker.”

He blows out a long breath, puts the shopping bag down on the side and takes a step back, further away from Miller’s state of the art induction hob. 

A minute passes, slowly and silently, before Ellie asks, “What were you going to cook?”

“Carbonara.”

“Ooh, bit exotic for a Scot, isn’t it?”

He throws her a withering look but she knows the joke is appreciated. Tension receding, she starts to unpack the shopping.

“I’ll do it. You can dictate from over there. And I officially designate you chief sommelier and DJ. See if you can find Tom’s bluetooth speaker -- I think it’s in the front room somewhere.” 

Alec does as he’s told. He opens the wine and lets it breathe while he looks for glasses. Pours her a generous helping, and then tops his own up too, because he remembers that he can safely drink more than a thimbleful at a time now. Brings in Tom’s speaker and scrolls anxiously through his Spotify playlists, wondering what music Ellie likes. In the end she tells him to stop dithering and he puts on a Ben E. King album. Maybe it’s a bit sentimental, but he’s fond of the low-key sound. Judging by the sway of Ellie’s hips, she is too.

They’re on to their second glass of wine by the time dinner is ready to dish up, and Alec is sent into the dining room to lay the table. He can hear Ellie singing along to the music, and then a quiet giggle. A thumping guitar riff starts, much louder than the previous song, and Alec heads back into the kitchen.

“Aha! You _ are _ a proper Scot! Soon as I put this on, you come running.”

It’s 500 Miles by The Proclaimers. Alec works hard to stop his smile from morphing into a full-blown grin. He rather unashamedly loves this song. And God help Ellie, because he’s tipsy enough to sing along to it, too.

“What is havering, anyway?” she shouts over the music.

He shrugs, and now he is grinning. “It’s sort of babbling. Talking nonsense. Pretty much how you speak, Miller.”

She smacks his arm, but he’s too quick. Catches her hand. They look at each other for a moment.

The pasta’s boiling over. But the pulse of the music and the wine and _ each other _is just too much.

The shout along to the chorus, Alec doing the call (da da da da!) and Ellie madly doing the response (DA DA DA DA!), clutching hands and nearly falling over each other as she enthusiastically drags him into the middle of the room so they can dance properly.

Well, it’s more jumping on the spot than dancing but it gets Alec’s heart going and he tries to swallow down the anxiety that’s flaring because his heart is pounding and tries to remember to breathe. Remembers the pacemaker’s there. The last chord dies away and leaves Ellie standing there, looking up at him. They’re still holding hands.

He taps his chest. “No more falling down at your door.”

And she smiles.

  


**V **

Their first kiss very quickly leads to a lot of other firsts, which is how Ellie finds herself in her bedroom at 8pm on a Tuesday being rapidly undressed by Alec Hardy.

His hands are warm and strong and she can’t begin to describe this feeling, the one that she’s craved for months now. The feeling of intimacy with someone you completely trust.

He looks up at her from where his mouth had been busy around her clitoris.

“Ok?”

He knows he’s good. Smug doesn’t begin to cover it.

“Oh, get on with it.”

She’s so close to her second climax, Alec’s hips are pounding into hers and his back’s sweaty under her palms when two things happen simultaneously. She feels a sharp prickle of static electricity under her right hand, and Alec suddenly jolts and groans.

“Ellie… ah, shit.” He pulls out. He’s struggling to speak, one hand clutching at his chest and the other fisted in the sheets.

It takes her another few seconds to understand.

Then --

“Oh, shit, Alec, are you all right? Fuck, I haven’t killed you, have I?”

He shakes his head, almost invisible in the half-dark of her bedroom.

“Pacemaker… shocked me,” he grinds out. “Feels... like I’ve been kicked in the chest.”

“Is it supposed to do that? Should I call an ambulance?”

She’s already in copper mode, pulling on her nightie and dressing gown, halfway out of bed.

“Ellie… ‘m’ok.” He catches her hand with his and she can feel his pulse under her fingers. 

Steady.

They lie there for a minute more and Alec gets his breath back.

“Doctor said this might happen. Means I need to go and get it adjusted. Seems I’m more energetic than they bargained for.” He sounds a tiny bit smug again.

She knows then they’re going to be all right.

The next time she’s round his place, she notices a few NHS leaflets shoved hastily into the recycling. The top one is simply entitled “Living with an implantable cardioverter defibrillator” but the one underneath proclaims in a bold, confident type “Sex, intimacy and heart conditions: living with heart failure”. 

She reads them both.

**+1 **

Ellie notices a lot about Alec in the year following his pacemaker surgery. He goes through a very subtle personality change, as though the Dorset weather is finally eroding him into something a little more happy.

He smiles more, and the lines around his eyes change shape.

His shirts tend to be ironed nowadays, and his beard is always neatly trimmed.

Slowly but surely, he starts to eat more. She watches him, day after day, as he rediscovers his enjoyment of food.

He drinks more than he used to, as well. They go to the pub and have two pints each and a huge plate of chips and he actually _ smiles _ as he eats the last one.

He sleeps better, longer, deeper. He has fewer nightmares about Pippa Gillespie.

He walksdifferently. Before the surgery, he’d been extremely economical in his movement. Now, he’s expansive. He stands up straighter. Strides longer. Paces enthusiastically.

She watches and laughs as he pulls a face at his first cup of coffee in ten years.

He can walk up a flight of stairs without needing to pause for breath now. And when Tom invites him for a kickabout down the park, he only hesitates a moment before agreeing.

The video of Tom teaching Alec Hardy how to do keepy uppys is something Ellie is going to treasure forever.

**Author's Note:**

> Come and say hello: malcolm-f-tucker.tumblr.com.


End file.
